Like Mother, Like Daughter

A psychic approached Trudy at Dupar’s coffee shop the night before John’s feeding tube surgery and informed her that she had a Bad Aura. It was sometime after midnight. Trudy and Ruth had stopped in for eggs on the way home from visiting John at the hospital because Trudy had a craving.

Ruth is legally blind and, whether she admits it or not, Trudy is very hard of hearing. I imagine that when the psychic approached the table, Ruth was shouting inquiries while Trudy read the menu aloud. The psychic, who Trudy described as, “very well dressed,” introduced herself and told Trudy that she could sense she was burdened by health problems. She then asked if Trudy’s health was bad. Trudy was astonished by her insight. “How could she know that?” I shared her excitement. “I know! How on earth could this woman divine that two older-” Trudy interrupted, “OLDER?” “Yes, Mom. Older. Elderly.” “ELDERLY? Well!” “Yes, how could she walk over to two ELDERLY women sitting in a diner late at night, no doubt conversing loudly about hospitals and doctors, and ascertain that at least one of them has medical issues?” Trudy pronounced her amazing and planned to visit the psychic at her home in Diamond Bar for a reading.

That reminded me of the time JB insisted I drive all the way out to Orange County for a consultation with his psychic when I was about 21 or 22. Her name was Dolly and she was a middle-aged woman living in the middle of the suburbs in a small house cluttered with stuffed unicorns, rainbow prism stickers and religious knickknacks. She had a really high-pitched voice like that spooky little woman in “Poltergeist.” Reluctantly, she allowed me to make an audiocassette of our session, which I later chopped up for interstices in a mixed tape.

First, Dolly read my aura, which she saw was mostly white. This told her I would soon have dental work on two teeth, take a trip to the snow, and participate in a wedding. The fact that there were no blacks, greys, browns or maroons in my aura told her that I wasn’t going to die in the near future, or go to jail, and that I wasn’t hooked on drugs.

Next, she asked for a piece of my jewelry and dealt out some Tarot cards, while calling forth her spirit guides, “Timothy, Stan, and Dr. Frank Vigiano.” They apparently relayed some urgent information to her so she looked up from her cards and asked whether I knew anyone who raised goats. I told her, “No, I live in New York. There are no goat herders in Manhattan.” Unfazed, she flipped more cards, tapped an acrylic fingernail on one, and assured me that I wouldn’t be killed in a car accident. Then, she stared at me long and hard before finally asking, “Mary, do you know a man whose name starts with a D? Doug?… David?... Donald?... No…wait… Oh! Mary!... I see a Dick in your future!” After that, she wrapped it up by warning me to be careful in the sun because I burn easily. I’ll bet Dr. Vigiano told her to say that.

And he was right. I do. Amazing.